


The Patient

by SeverelyBurnt_Toast



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Angst, Army, Christmas Special, Clerith, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship/Love, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Music, Music as a coping mechanism, Neighbors, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rating May Change, Veterans, Zack Fair & Cloud Strife Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26169190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverelyBurnt_Toast/pseuds/SeverelyBurnt_Toast
Summary: The first thing to attack Cloud’s vision as he exited his apartment, was the newfound abundance of color in the hallway.It didn’t come from the walls, they were still painted their depressed beige. Nor did it come from any new light fixtures on the ceiling.It came from the ground, and the dozens of flowers and flower pots that were scattered about.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair & Cloud Strife
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30





	The Patient

**Author's Note:**

> Sup y'all. Playing the FFVII Remake rekindled my love for the series and this lovely ship, so I decided to write something :)
> 
> Throughout, song lyrics and album titles will be used, I do not own any of these and applaud you if you recognize them!
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy, criticism and comments are always welcome!

* * *

The first thing to attack Cloud’s vision as he exited his apartment, was the newfound abundance of color in the hallway.

It didn’t come from the walls, they were still painted their depressed beige. Nor did it come from any new light fixtures on the ceiling. 

It came from the ground, and the dozens of flowers and flower pots that were scattered about. 

His gaze flickered over each one, more so out of confusion and necessity rather than any actual appreciation for their beauty, as he sought out their owner. 

She was standing in front of the door to the vacant apartment across the hall. Her brown hair pulled back into a braid that was held together by a pink ribbon; yet another pot was held close to her body in a hug as she jostled around in her cropped, red jacket’s pocket for what Cloud assumed was her key. 

Her grunts and sighs of annoyance managed to bleed in through his headphones, mixing in with the distorted guitars and heavy percussion that flooded his ear canals that day.

It’s 6:30 at night on a Saturday; the concert he and Zack had been planning to go to was about two hours away and his train was due to leave at 6:45. He wants to stay and help the girl, but knowing that he’d have to explain his extended absence to Zack, and his friend’s beloved game to turn everything into a joke to spite and tease Cloud - good-naturedly of course - he thinks better of it. 

He made it down a whole three steps before a quick exclamation of “ _shit!”_ , the sound of something shattering, and the standard human response of curiosity and worry flooding his system forced him to pad his way back up to his floor’s landing. 

Cloud’s head was quick to swivel back over to the newcomer. One of her pots - the one she held to her chest - was now shattered among the dull, blue carpet of their shared hallway. Soil had exploded alongside the shards of the ceramic jar. The yellow flower, once standing gracefully in a bed of dirt, now laid on its side in a pile of soil on the ground. 

Moving his eyes up to his new neighbor, Cloud frowned at the way she was clutching her arm, the faintest red line trickling its way down her fingers as she bit her bottom lip and hissed. 

“You alright?” He asked automatically, his voice just loud enough to be heard over his neighbor’s cursing. 

His sudden appearance sent a jolt through the flower girl. Her head snapped upwards, her green eyes shot open wide, and her face turned a scarlet red in the wake of her embarrassment. Wrapping his headphones around his neck, Cloud eyed his neighbor with an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Y-Yeah, sorry about all the yelling… and cursing,” she apologized, her cheeks still tinged with a soft pink shade as she kicked the ground nervously. 

Her lips quirked themselves up into an awkward grin. Her eyes, however, flickered between Cloud, the broken pot, and the hand still clutching at her arm, never quite sure just _what_ she should’ve been focusing on and never quite meeting his own. 

“S’Fine,” Cloud reassured the stranger; stuffing his hands in his pockets. With a jerk of his neck, Cloud motioned towards the woman’s still cradled arm. “D’You cut yourself?”

Her head snapped over to her injured arm. Gently cupping underneath the wound, the stranger took a fleeting glance. The familiar crimson liquid was still flushing out in waves, pooling in her palm as it continued to stained both her skin and her rosewater pink shirt. 

She let out a sharp hiss, pressing her palm against the wound once again. With a morose chuckle, the girl nodded her head in confirmation.

“Looks like,” she admitted in a soft voice. She released a second chuckle, although this one was much livelier and less nervous than the previous one. “You wouldn’t happen to have some bandages, would you?”

Cloud could feel his shoulders tense, the hand holding his cellphone curling tighter around it in the process. He gave the power button a firm click, his eyes scanning the screen for the time.

_6:40PM_

It would take him around ten minutes to reach the subway station from his apartment complex, which would then mold into a fifteen-minute subway ride, followed by a five-minute walk to the concert’s venue. Had he not gotten caught up, he would’ve already been boarding the subway.

With a few swipes and clicks, Cloud managed to retrieve the digital ticket that would allow him entry to the show. The name of the band, opening act, and venue all but disappeared from his sight as he focused on the information below it.

_Doors Open at 7:30PM_

_Rain or Shine._

The next train wouldn’t be leaving until seven anyways, meaning he wouldn’t be entering the venue until 7:20; he was supposed to meet Zack at seven. That at least left him with an hour-ten until the headlining band would begin their set. With a semi-exasperated sigh, Cloud sent Zack a quick text explaining his eventual delay, before he turned to open his apartment door.

“Just wait in my kitchen, I’ll move your flowers into your apartment for you,” he sighed. With a solid push, the door opened. The hinges creaked quietly in protest to the movement. 

The stranger was quick to object.

“No! No! I wouldn’t want to impose!” She blurted out quickly. “Just loan me some bandages and I’ll be on my way. I’ll pay you back, I promise!”

Cloud had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. With another quick jerk of the neck, he motioned to the inside of his apartment; his keys still dangling from the lock on the door. 

“You’ll be out here all night if you try to move all of these with an injured arm,” Cloud moved to grab the two closest pots, lifting the orange containers with ease as he began to tip-toe over the remaining jars towards her apartment. “Just try not to get blood on the floor.”

The neighbor developed a small pout, but trudged her way over to Cloud’s apartment regardless, muttering a small “ _thanks_ ” as she squirmed her way past him. 

Back and forth, Cloud moved the flowers into the barren apartment in pairs, using any available piece of counter space or shelf to keep them off of the floor. He recognized a few of the blooms: roses, tulips, daisies, and lilies. Others are too foreign for him to name and a few look far too exotic to be grown in some shabby apartment.

Boxes littered her hardwood floor, each one varying in shape and size and donning a different tag. There was no furniture to be found in the apartment; every shelf not occupied by an orange pot was just as empty as the residence itself. 

It takes Cloud all of ten minutes to move every pot inside; the shattered one remained on the old carpet in the hallway. 

The door to the newcomer's apartment closed with a soft click, and with careful steps, Cloud made his way back to his apartment. The girl was waiting for him; sitting on his small island with her feet swinging back and forth in a childlike manner. 

“That was quick,” she commented with a grin, earning a grunt for her efforts.

Her eyes traveled around Cloud’s apartment, taking in its simplistic appearance as she sat on the kitchen island.

The furniture was basic. A large, black, leather sectional couch resided in the center of the room, facing a mounted flatscreen TV in front of it. The island which she sat upon was the only piece to divide the living room from the small kitchen that housed the bare necessities: a fridge, microwave, stove, dishwasher, and a sink.

The only notable construct within the small portion of her neighbor’s home was the large bookshelf at the back of the room behind the couch that housed, not books, but rows upon rows of CDs. 

Her curiosity piqued, the newcomer decided to investigate. 

“So…” she dragged out the vowel as she craned her head to look behind her, watching as Cloud rifled through various cabinets in his kitchen. “You like music, I take it?”

He hummed noncommittally, his thumb and forefinger wrapping around their desired bandages and his middle finger curling around a small bottle of peroxide.

“I guess you could say that,” was Cloud’s verbal response to the question; blue eyes flickering over to a digital clock on a nearby table.

_6:50PM_

He has ten minutes, more than enough time to hand over the first-aid equipment and make his way to the subway station; a good sprint would allow him to arrive just in time to catch the seven 'o'clock subway ride.

As he raised his head to hand the new neighbor her requested supplies, Cloud was violently shoved into a stupor as she began to roll up her shirt sleeve, presenting the wound to him as if asking him to-

“C’mon doc, the wound’s not gonna bandage itself!” She declared, her lips splitting into a grin so big that Cloud swore the light from his lamps glinted off of her teeth.

Cloud could feel his jaw go slack and his eyes go wide, a low, dumbfounded note slipping past his lips as he stared at his new neighbor Incredulously. She couldn’t be serious, could she?

“What? Do I have to pay extra for the application? Unless…” her emerald eyes shone with a teasing gleam. “You’re not _squeamish_ are you?”

Cloud stiffened at the question. He was _far_ from squeamish, he merely had a rather poor relationship with wounds and blood. With a fleeting glance to a nearby picture frame, Cloud shook his head. He chose to remain silent as he worked. 

Dampening a cloth with peroxide, he ran the substance over his neighbor’s wound, earning a gasp of surprise and a hiss from its owner. 

“Warn a girl next time, won’t you?” The stranger chastised. Her lips curled into a pout as Cloud wiped away the excess blood with a piece of tissue paper.

Ignoring the complaint, Cloud rubbed his thumb gently over the wound that rested just below the girl’s shoulder, marveling at the length of the cut. It was going to scar.

“How the hell did you manage to do this?” Cloud found himself asking. His eyes flickered up to meet the stranger’s; confusion met questioning.

The girl challenged the question with a half-hearted shrug. “Not quite sure,” she had said, making a vague gesture towards Cloud’s apartment door. “Pretty sure a nail was sticking out of the casings or something.”

Cloud cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t question further. Quickly wrapping the long-sought out bandages around the neighbor’s wound, Cloud could hear the minutes ticking down in his mind. 

_6:55PM;_ he hoped his body was up for a sprint.

The newcomer hopped off of his island with grace, landing with a soft exhale of breath as her black boots clicked against the hardwood. She gave Cloud a toothy smile while extending her hand.

“Thanks…” the neighbor trailed off, it took a moment for Cloud to realize she was asking for something - his _name._

“Cloud. Cloud Strife,” with a firm grip, Cloud shook his neighbor’s hand, watching as her smile grew _that_ much larger.

“Aerith Gainsborough. Your new neighbor!” Finally, a name to a face.

Cloud gave a stiff nod, silently ushering Aerith and himself out of his apartment in an attempt to save time. The sting of blood still plagued the air of his apartment, fueling Cloud’s desire to leave. 

He shut the door behind them, releasing a breath at its soft click and the twinge of metallic blood finally left the air. 

“So… I’ll - see you around?” Aerith asked. She clasped her hands behind her back, quirking her head to the side. Her lips played at a small, hopeful smile.

Cloud stumbled over his words for a moment as he ran a hand through his unruly hair. With a small cough, he stopped his ramblings. 

“Y-Yeah.” Aerith nodded in satisfaction. 

Crouching down beside the tarnished flower still sitting in the hallway, Aerith cupped her stained hands around the blossom with a small portion of soil. She turned around to face Cloud one last time; struggling with the doorknob, Aerith was finally able to push the door open with her heel. 

“Goodnight,” she muttered quietly. Cloud gave a shaky nod, mumbling his own “ _g’night,”_ before bolting his way through the apartment complex. 

Down seven flights of stairs, dodging residents and visitors throughout. The front door to the building was nearly torn off of its hinges as Cloud made his way outside; the cool night air nipped at his skin through his grey sweater. He fumbled for his phone, the device buried deep in his pant pocket. 

And with a solid click of the power button, he searched for the time.

 _7:05PM_.

“Shit.”

* * *

Their second meeting had ended on a more kind note.

A late Friday night; the hour nearly crossed the threshold of midnight to mark the beginning of the weekend, the exact time being nothing more than a muddled notion in Cloud’s mind. 

A muddled notion constantly being drowned out by the light buzz lingering in the back of his mind. 

A “boys night” with Zack, Barret, Biggs, and Wedge had ended with Cloud being responsible for the safety of his four friends as they drank themselves into oblivion. While they downed shot after shot: whiskey, gin, vodka, and all, Cloud nursed a handful of glasses of scotch throughout the night, preferring a slight buzz and numbness to a total loss of higher thought. 

One whole hour of his friends singing their hearts out in his car, occasional pit stops for them to throw up, and boisterous laughter, had left Cloud with a migraine that throbbed like a dull beat, boosting the ringing in his ears that remained a constant throughout his life.

Through sheer luck, Cloud managed to stumble his way up the seven flights of stairs to his floor, clutching at his head periodically as he took breaks throughout. Upon reaching his floor, a groan managed to tear its way out of his throat.

There she was, left hand curled into a tight fist, her right lifted to knock on his door. She stood on her tip-toes, her chocolate brown hair no longer held in the braid he first saw it in, but rather flowing down her back freely, clad in nothing but a pair of plaid pajamas and grey slippers.

She must’ve heard his groan, as her head swiveled over in his direction and her eyes landed on his tired and agitated form.

“Oh, lucky me,” she commented in a chipper tone. Her lips curled into something pleasant as she fully turned her body.

The late hour, coupled with the roaring headache and overall exhaustion, had Cloud growl out his words in a way that he both regretted and couldn’t control. “What do you want?”

Aerith held up her left hand, unfurling it to show a diagonal cut along her palm. Cloud nearly groaned again at the sight. 

“Midnight snack gone awry?” She offered sheepishly; her mouth fumbled for the proper expression to wear. “Never was any good with knives.”

Cloud shook his head in an exasperated move. Limping his way up the final few sections of stairs, he begrudgingly opened his apartment door. The light burned his retinas as he flicked them on. Clutching at his forehead and stifling a pained grunt, Cloud made his way over to his kitchen. 

Aerith followed suit, this time opting to sit at one of the stools along the spine of the island instead of sitting atop it. Noticing the action, Cloud quirked an eyebrow.

“What did you do this time?” He asked as he searched through his drawers for his quickly diminishing bandages. 

Aerith tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a small chuckling leaving her as she recalled her accident. 

“Grabbed a knife by the blade while making a sandwich.” Cloud paused for a moment, looking up at his accident-prone neighbor with an expression that pleaded for this all to be a joke.

The tight-lipped, wide-eyed look he gained in return told him that she was being serious. 

The first word - or rather question - to bleed into his mind was _how?_ But the encroaching need for sleep prevented him from blurting the word out. 

Cloud closed the drawer containing the bandages with his hip, and without idle chit-chat, he cleaned and wrapped up Aerith’s second wound. To his amazement, her hands weren’t the soft, smooth texture he was expecting, but rather rough to the touch and filled with callouses; some tougher than his own.

With a flex her digits, Aerith tested the tightness of the bandage. At her small smile and grateful nod, Cloud assumed she was satisfied with his work. She hopped off of his island’s stool, her grey slippers clapping against the ground as she did so. 

“Thanks again,” she said gratefully. Cloud dismissed it with a wave of his hand as he turned around.

He could hear her feet travel across his apartment softly; the door creaked as Aerith opened it to leave. A few seconds of silence passed.

The door never closed.

Confusion rolled its way into him, and with a bewildered frown, Cloud spun on his heel. Aerith stood in the doorway, her hand still clasped around the knob. The light from the hallway shone in through the large opening, casting the bookshelf at the back of his apartment in an orange glow. 

Suddenly it clicked into place.

His CDs. 

What did she want with his CDs?

“Need something else?” He asked loud enough to knock her out of her stupor. 

Aerith didn’t jump or jolt at the sudden question, she merely turned to face Cloud, a small smile resting on her face. 

“Nope, just…” she trailed off for a moment, eyes flickering between the bookshelf and Cloud. “Do you mind if I just take a quick look at your CDs?”

The constantly questioning type, Cloud mused. She had demonstrated during their last impromptu healing session as well. Part of him was curious as to why she was so engrossed by his music. Was it because he always had something playing when he was home? Was it the sheer amount that confounded her? 

With a set jaw, he answered. “Look, but don’t touch.”

Aerith nodded excitedly, quickly making her way over to the bookshelf while making as little noise as possible. Cloud, on the other hand, had decided to lay down on the sectional in the center of the room, closing his eyes in the process. All he needed was a few minutes to soothe his head, he’d give Aerith those few minutes then ask her to leave. Easy… it’d be easy.

Aerith’s eyes darted over every album carefully as she reached the bookshelf; her fingers just barely grazing their spines as she abided by Cloud's _look, don’t touch_ rule. The titles were foreign in her mind, each one as new and exciting as the last. They were as unique and had the same quality of individuality as her flowers.

_Around The Fur, Savior Sorrow, The Righteous and The Butterfly, Thirteenth Step, 10,000 Days, Dirt, Follow The Leader, Minutes To Midnight._

On and on the shelves went. Green eyes traveled between the rows and columns, mesmerized.

_In Utero, Superunknown, Vol. 3: The Subliminal Verses, Diamond Eyes, Life Is Peachy, The Serenity Of Suffering, The Paradigm Shift, Iowa._

There were hundreds. The amount of time, effort, and money that would’ve been needed to pull this collection off astounded Aerith.

“Did you _buy_ all of these?” She asked in astonishment. 

The living room remained stagnant, the only sound being the whistle of the midnight wind outside. Aerith waited…. and waited…. and waited. Finally, the silence seemed _that_ much more potent in Cloud’s apartment. 

“Cloud?” Aerith peered over her shoulder, eyes wide and curious. He didn’t fall asleep, did he?

Tip-toeing across the length of the living, she peered over the head of the couch. She was careful not to press against the leather, all so she wouldn’t make any necessary noise. 

“Cloud~, you awake?” Aerith prodded gently. The sight before her answered her question.

Cloud’s eyes were closed; sapphire irises now hidden behind a thin veil of skin and muscle. Slightly parted lips and rhythmic rise and fall to his chest signaled steady, restful breathing. 

This was rather… _stressful._ No, not stressful. _Strange._

Standing alone, in her neighbor’s apartment, a neighbor she had known for a total of 12 hours, looking at his CDs, while he laid passed out on his couch. What exactly was a girl to do in this situation? 

As quiet as a mouse, Aerith traversed around the apartment in search of a blanket. It was the least she could do after he took the time to bandage her ridiculously earned cut. She felt bad rifling through Cloud’s various drawers, doing her damndest not to see anything she wasn’t supposed to by mainly utilizing her sense of touch.

Her mind rambled amidst her search. Surely this wasn’t _that_ strange, he had helped clean up her wounds twice now! Taking a glance at some CDs wasn’t that bad. _Maybe_ the blanket search was a bit peculiar but…

The immediate sensation of something soft and warm flooded Aerith’s fingertips. Her eyes shot open in an instant. She raked her gaze over each cabinet she opened, wincing at the increase of dishevelment within each one. 

With a quick shake of her head, Aerith pulled the blanket from the cabinet. She shut each subsequent one she passed as she both quietly and quickly made her way over to Cloud.

She laid the blanket over the top of his body, pouting at how it wasn’t quite long enough to cover him head to toe but more than wide enough to cover both him and the width of the couch. With muted footsteps, Aerith made her way to the apartment door.

“Goodnight,” she mumbled at the lump on the couch, shutting the door as silently as she could to mark the end of the night.

And as the door closed, Aerith left as a thin sheen of sweat began to coat Cloud’s body and his breathing became labored.

As his body reacted to the darkened hole his mind was dragging him to.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! Any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone.  
> I hope to see you all in the future!


End file.
